


Tactile

by IronMain



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cooking, Drinking, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lucid Dreaming, Mind Reading, Slow Burn, post Age of Ultron, pre civil war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 14,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronMain/pseuds/IronMain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Everything here is just too similar and strange at the same time, if that makes sense.”<br/>“Completely,” The Vision replied, inclining his head slightly at the sentiment.<br/>Wanda crumpled the empty cracker sleeve and crushed it into her palm before crossing her arms.<br/>“I recognize many things in this world,” the Vision continued.<br/>Wanda met his eyes again, only to have him turn and look back out at the night sky.<br/>“But I find I am seeing them for the first time as well.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written a year ago. Posted now. Enjoy some Scarlet/Vision slow burn and slow build! Post "Age of Utron", but pre "Captain America: Civil War"
> 
> I own nothing. All rights to Marvel.

Long after the facility had shut down for the night, Wanda was still wide awake.

Thick darkness crept out from the corners of her room and met in the middle of her ceiling. At the edges of her mind, she could feel the dreams of her neighbors. Two doors down, Wilson was deep in a foggy slumber while across the hall Rogers dreamed of metal snakes, their eyes red stars. Next door, Romanov’s mind was a vault that she did not wish to penetrate, even in her sleep. Wanda rolled over, eyelids heavy, but unable to close. She was unused to the silence. Ever since childhood, she had spent her nights curled next to Pietro, and she had endured the months in HYDRA’s grasp by allowing her mind to entangle with his while they slept. Now, the crushing emptiness of the room and the foreign minds that she brushed nearby unnerved her.

Though she may grow used to life here, his absence would never be filled.

  
The team bonding exercises Captain Rogers forced on them had done little to soften her. Though she now trusted most of the people around them, the distance between them was palpable. After all, she was the only one here with something to prove.

Redemption was a lonely road, even if Pietro were still alive.

  
Her stomach gave an insistent gurgle. The clock on the dresser read 3:11AM. It had been hours since dinner, and she had not eaten much. American food did not sit well in her stomach. It was always too salty, greasy or overdone in some likewise fashion.

She was unused to the excess.

  
The hallways to the kitchen were abandoned, and her bare feet made slight sucking noises as they peeled off the cold floor with each step. Red tendrils briefly wove around her right hand as she extended her mind and found the switch in the dark. Light exploded from the fluorescent bulbs that lined the ceiling. Much like the rest of the facility, the kitchen was clinically clean and arranged. The linoleum floor alternated in a white and black checkerboard patter and every surface, cabinet and appliance was uniform chrome. The unflattering lighting did nothing to hide the bleakness of the space.

  
Wanda reached down and opened the first cupboards near the fridge. There were boxes of cereal, crackers, and various packaged nutrient bars. She closed the door and opened the next one, only to find it stuffed with coffee cans and a variety of filter media. With a deep sigh, she closed the door again and tuned back towards the fridge, hoping to at least find some milk, but the gallon jug only contained a mouthful covering the bottom of it’s container. Half finished energy drinks surrounded it and what looked liked liquefied asparagus stood in a tall pitcher at the back.

Americans had a very strange palate, indeed.

  
Wanda finally surrendered and grabbed a package of dry crackers from the third shelf next to the coffee machine. With a flick of her hand, the red curls appeared once more and doused the kitchen into darkness. Her feet, considerably colder, made soft smacking sounds against the hall floor as she walked. Wanda passed an open doorway and was fully prepared to continue back to her room, except that a slight movement caught her eye. She glanced left and for the first time noticed a lone figure standing before the tall glass windows. The moonlight glinted softly off his gold cape and crimson skin. Wanda stared for a long moment before popping a cracker into her mouth and making a loud crunching sound. Her plan worked, as the Vision tilted his head and then slowly looked over his shoulder to meet her gaze.

  
“Up late,” she said between crumbs.

  
“I could say the same for you,” he said, his voice the same, cool monotone it had been since his abrupt creation.

  
“Unable to sleep?”

  
“I do not require it, if that is what you are asking.”

  
“What were you looking at?”

  
The Vision slowly walked over to her. She leaned against the doorframe and popped another cracker into her mouth. He reached her side and then turned to look back at the windows once more.

  
“The stars, mostly. They shift slightly every night as the earth orbits the sun and I find it most enjoyable to track them. May I ask why you are awake, though, Miss Maximoff?”

  
“Tracking stars as well,” she said bluntly.

  
The Vision turned to look at her, but she couldn’t tell if he caught her joke.

  
“Hunger,” she added, waving her sad cracker sleeve.

  
The Vision stood and watched her for a long moment. Wanda noticed for the first time that his eyes glowed slightly in the dark, blue disks broken by prismatic shapes.

  
“Will you be returning to you quarters now that you have eaten?” he asked at length.

  
“This is hardly a meal. But the rest of the food here is too…. foreign for my stomach.”

  
“I did not know you were suffering from indigestion.”

  
“I am not,” she rebutted firmly, “I am suffering from homesickness, if you must know.”

  
The Vision was silent for a moment, “I apologize if I upset you, that was not my intention.”

  
“It is not your fault,” she sighed. “Everything here is just too similar and strange at the same time, if that makes sense.”

  
“Completely,” The Vision replied, inclining his head slightly at the sentiment.

  
Wanda crumpled the empty cracker sleeve and crushed it into her palm before crossing her arms.

  
“I recognize many things in this world,” the Vision continued. Wanda met his eyes again, only to have him turn and look back out at the night sky.  
“But I find I am seeing them for the first time as well.”

  
She considered him for several quiet moments. Truly of all her new allies, he was the most elusive. His mind was not a human mind in the ordinary sense and though she had allowed herself to gently explore it, she found the elegant branching trails of thoughts and ideas to confusing to follow. He was powerful, that she knew. But beyond his abilities, appearance and intonations she realized she knew nothing about him. This was the longest she had really spoken with him. She watched him gaze out the window for several more silent minutes.

  
“What I wouldn’t give,” she finally said, breaking the comfortable quiet. He turned to look at her as she stuffed her hands, and the wrapper, into her pockets. “For a good goulash.”

  
The Vision tilted his head slightly, his brow line furrowed.

  
“I am unfamiliar with this,” he stated plainly.

  
“It’s something I used to eat all the time when I was younger.”

  
“Do we not have one here?”

  
Her lips curled in a slight laugh at his question. “No, I am afraid we do not have ‘one goulash’ here.”

  
“Is it hard to make?”

  
She paused and tilted her head to nearly match his.

  
“Why do you ask?”


	2. Chapter 2

In all honesty, Captain Rogers would have been very upset if he had entered the kitchen at 4AM and found two Avengers busily cooking when at least one of them should have been asleep.

The once clean counter tops were covered in chopped potatoes and onions. The Vision stood by the stove, carefully stirring a tall pot while Wanda sifted through a cupboard, twisting spice jars around and replacing the ones she did not want.

“Will tomato paste do?” the Vision asked, holding a can up for her inspection.

Wanda placed a small jar of paprika on the counter and took the can from his hand, carefully reading its label.

“Roma tomatoes would be better, but this is an acceptable substitution,” she finally said.

The Vision handed her the can opener from the drawer beside the stove and she carefully cranked the container open before dumping its contents into the already simmering pot of stock. Wanda returned to the spices and carefully added her selections to several diced pieces of chicken, rolling the tiny morsels until they were completely covered. The Vision suddenly appeared at her side and carefully scooped the chopped onions and potatoes into a bowl and carried them to the stove. Wanda followed with the finished chicken, red coils encircling them as they floated towards the awaiting pot. Together, they added the final ingredients before the Vision locked the lid into place.

“And now the waiting game,” Wanda mused, taking a seat on a tall stool by next to the chrome-topped island.

“And what of the chili powder?” the Vision asked, handing her the tiny bottle she had placed next to the stove.

“That is added only five minutes before we turn the stove off.”

“Why?”

“The flavor diffuses otherwise.”

The Vision considered the tiny bottle for a moment, before placing it back in its original spot and taking the stool next to Wanda. His cape collected in a small pile on the floor due to his lowered position. Wanda briefly wondered if he could feel the cold linoleum through it.

“How long before it is ready?” he asked.

“Properly, we should give it two hours, but I am fine with serving it at 5:30.”

“That does not leave you much time to sleep,” the Vision noted.

“I don’t sleep much anyway.”

“I don’t think that is very healthy.”

“Coming from the man who never sleeps. Or eats. Or performs any other basic human necessity.”

“With all due respect, Miss Maximoff, you are not an android.”

She turned towards him, trying to catch his eyes.

“Are you teasing me?”

“I am trying to ascertain how serious your insomnia is.”

“That sounded like a joke. I do not believe I have ever heard you tell a joke,” she replied trying to change the subject.

“Does your homesickness keep you awake most nights?”

He was now looking at her, his body turned toward her and his eyes fixed unwaveringly on hers. Wanda stared defiantly back for a beat, before turning away.

“Personal questions tend to make most humans uncomfortable,” she said dryly.

The Vision realigned himself with the counter, following her lead by placing both his arms on the counter top and leaning forward slightly.

“I apologize for upsetting you again.”

The kitchen fell into a long, tangible silence, broken only by the gentle purr from the stovetop.

“I forgive you,” she breathed at length.

“I will not bring up the subject again if it is uncomfortable to you,” the Vision added.

Wanda turned towards him and nodded slightly.

“Thank you.”

The pot on the stove gave a loud pop and the lid shook slightly. They both turned their attention towards the sound.

“If only we had some Okhotnichya,” Wanda said, not realizing she was speaking aloud.

“What is that?” the Vision asked, turning his attention back to her.

“Like Vodka, but stronger. We used to drink it with this on cold nights.”

The word ‘we’ fell off her tongue before she could stop it. The Vision did not press for more information.

“Unfortunately,” she continued, “all the hard liquor is currently locked in the fridge in the basement to for ‘our own good’.” She said the last words while mimicking Rogers’ voice.

The Vision considered her statement for a moment, and then without warning he phased through the floor before Wanda had time to give a cry. He returned several minutes later, his crimson head appearing in the center of the kitchen floor, followed by a hand bearing a single, dark bottle with silver paper decorating the neck. He floated gently upwards until his entire body was visible and then solidified, placing the bottle on the island.

“I am afraid the fridge only had Vodka, no Okhotnichya,” he said flatly, his pronunciation perfect.

Wanda picked up the bottle and considered it for a moment.

“Do you drink?” she asked at length.

“I do not require liquids to maintain myself.”

Wanda retrieved a bottle opener from the nearest drawer.

“That is not what I asked.”


	3. Chapter 3

Wanda filled her tumbler for the second time as the Vision took a tiny sip from his own glass. Unlike most men, he did not outright balk at the pungent flavor, but he did blink hard for several seconds afterwards.

“It is quite bitter.”

“You will get used to it,” Wanda smiled and watched as he swished the liquid around, examining the glass from a variety of angles as through her were trying to decipher it.

Wanda took another large gulp from her own glass. It burned her tongue and throat, but the warmth that spread through her belly and chest eased the tension in her mind and for the first time that night she allowed the muscles in her back to relax and unclench. The Vision took a second considerably larger experimental sip. She caught him glance at her from across the island.

“Better?” she asked, concealing a laugh as the corners of his nose twisted slightly.

“Not in the least.”

“So you can joke?” she teased.

“Did you think I could not?”

“I wondered why you would not.”

“I believe my humor is programmed to be the straight man for Mr. Stark’s benefit.”

“JARVIS’s programming may have been that, but your mind is more unique from what I have read.”

There was a pause.

“Read?”

Wanda silently cursed and immediately took another swig from her glass.

“Have you been reading me, my mind that is?”

Wanda could not tell from his face if the Vision was mad or curious.

“Not intentionally. I can sense it and when it has been open enough I have wandered in, but not for long.”

Her answer seemed to satisfy him as he returned him gaze to the glass.

“I think it is my turn to apologize now,” she said.

“There is no need. The fact that you can read my mind is actually comforting. I had not though my mind so human-like until now.”

“What had you considered your mind before?” she asked.

“What was it you said earlier about personal questions?”

Wanda smiled and let a small laugh escape through her nose. The pot gave another loud pop nearby.


	4. Chapter 4

It had not occurred to Wanda that the Vision had the capacity to get drunk.

By the time she had finished her third glass, he had only finished his first. But as the goulash bubbled away cheerily on the stove, it struck her that every piece of his body, including his stomach or equivalent, was quite virginal and not, in fact, used to the sensations of adult human life. It started when he went to go stir the pot on her bidding. As he pushed off from the island and walked towards the stove, she realized that he seemed to be growing shorter.

“Vizsh?” she asked, placing her own glass on the counter. He paused and turned towards her. Only then did he notice the progress he had made towards the floor. Both his feet had completely disappeared up to his shins.

“Oh,” he said, sounding more surprised than his face showed.

He immediately floated upwards, dragging his feet through the linoleum until he was standing and solid once more.

“That has never happened before.”

“Are you feeling all right?” Wanda asked.

She walked over until she was next to him and placed a hand on his forearm. His arm was warm to the touch. Wanda could not remember a time before when it had ever been so, even during rigorous team practices in the July sun.

“I’m not sure. Is it normal for alcohol to cause –balcony,” he blurted, his tone changing slightly at the final word.

“Excuse me?” Wanda asked.

She reached over with her mind and flicked the stove off before turning it on the Vision. Carefully, the red tendrils enveloped his head and she sensed the sudden burst of confusion that permeated his thoughts. Everything wavered for a moment and then tried to realign itself, only to waver again.

“Vizsh….I think you’re drunk.” Wanda said, unable to conceal a laugh as she allowed him to lean on her.

“Oh,” he said, blinking several times.

She watched as his blue eyes shifted and spiraled around his pupils, trying to correct their intemperate state.

“That is unfortunate.”

On the last syllable, his head pitched forward slightly and without warning a sound escaped his mouth. The Vision’s free hand reached up to stifle what Wanda could only call a loud and boisterous laugh. Without warning, the Vision’s entire lower half rocketed through the floor. Wanda collapsed under the sudden force as his arms and chest crashed into the linoleum. Pushing herself up into a half sitting position, Wanda leaned against the island and stared at the Vision. For a brief moment, his eyes locked with hers. The geodesic blue rings swiveled in what seemed to be bewilderment, before the rest of the Vision’s body slipped soundlessly beneath the solid black and white tiles.


	5. Chapter 5

Pietro had been drunk on many occasions.

Wanda could list half a dozen instances when she had to half carry him home from various bars when he tried to prove he could hold his own against some loud mouth. She could remember the feeling of his overheated body against hers, as they would stagger back through their familiar streets, laughing and occasionally vomiting. She had always held her liquor better than him. However, Pietro had never had an issue with remaining solid during any of these instances. Now, Wanda was leaning against a metal kitchen cupboard in a foreign country while an inebriated member of her new team slowly, uncontrollably phased his way through the lower floors.

Despite her own slightly buzzed state, Wanda immediately sprang into action, diving out of the kitchen into the hallway, looking for the nearest staircase. After three left turns, she found one, slamming her shoulder into the side of the door as she forced her way through and clambered down the steps two at a time. She burst through the first door she found. The kitchen areas were all on the second floor, while the first floor contained various training and briefing rooms. Wanda’s mind reached out and hastily flicked every light switch she could find. Platinum light bathed the more open areas in a false sunrise.

The first three rooms down the hall contained large windows. As she ran, she glanced through each one while simultaneously casting her mind through them, searching for the Vision’s own web of thoughts. She raked her fingers through the air in front of her, casting her mental net as wide as she could. Several drops of sweat prickled on her neck.

After an intense minute, she caught something.

Wanda rounded the bend into the large gymnasium. The white walls beamed at her entrance. Several pieces of exercise equipment, as well as large weights, stood ready for use on the sidelines of the running track that bordered the sparring arenas.

Wanda took no notice of any of her surroundings and nearly toppled a cart of hand weights as she raced towards the middle of the room, where a flailing Vision, tangled in his own cape, plummeted towards the floor.

He reached the contact point before she did, his legs and half of his torso disappearing. Now, once again reduced to only a pair of arms and a chest, he braced himself against the floor, leaning on one elbow and attempting to push himself upwards with his free hand. Wanda reached his side just as his hand phased through the floor as though it were water. Throwing herself to the ground, Wanda grasped his one remaining arm in a desperate attempt to stop his progress. The Vision turned towards her touch and Wanda thought she saw something flash in his eyes before his forearm became no more graspable than smoke and what remained of his form slipped beneath the floor.

She was up in an instant, sprinting towards the far exit, where she knew the next set of stairs to the ground level was located.


	6. Chapter 6

Wanda had as much success stopping the Vision in the weapons storage facility as she had in the open gymnasium.

The vault door had been locked tight for the night and not even her Avenger’s access card could deactivate the deadbolt without a superior officer’s authorization. She was forced to watch through the tiny window as the Vision dripped through the ceiling, swung his arms uselessly at a nearby shelving unit, only to pass through it on his way to the floor.

It was then that she felt it.

Her red ropes of energy crackled and buzzed around her as she tried to force the door open. In the back of her mind, Wanda sensed a sudden coldness. It crept along her spine and made her toes curl against the floor. Wanda turned once again from the lock to the tiny window and met the Vision’s eyes before he disappeared through the floor for the third time.

The sensation intensified.

Her powers may have been new, but she did not need practice to recognize pure fear when she felt it.

Wanda recited every curse word she knew as she abandoned the vault door and bolted for the basement stairs.


	7. Chapter 7

She reached the basement level before the Vision did, practically throwing herself down the stairs.

The basement area was mainly used as extra office space, and small cubicles lined the walls. In the event of an attack, the basement could be sealed off from the upper levels and several access tunnels would make coming and going easy. All in all, it was made to be a virtual safe house should anything ever go wrong. For the moment though, it was Wanda’s last chance to halt the Vision’s out of control trip.

She felt him before she saw him. Her mind brushed his behind her and she turned just in time to watch his legs burst through the high ceiling. Instinctively she ducked, trying to avoid them as he kicked, momentarily forgetting that he had no way of physically striking her. Wanda scampered out of the way as the rest of his body appeared through the ceiling. His face and head finally emerged. Though his features bore their usual unreadable expression, his eyes flashed and darted madly about, looking for some kind of purchase. The fear pricked throughout Wanda’s mind like needles in a pincushion. She had never seen the Vision so distraught.

Immediately, Wanda threw her hands out in front of her, trying to wrap her hands and mind around his outstretched arms. His crimson fingers passed through hers like a ghost. The floor seemed to be approaching too quickly, and within moments the Vision had disappeared up to his armpits into the solid concrete. Wanda watched as his face, cobalt eyes rotating madly about their pupils, seeped into the cold ground. Reaching out, she placed both her hands near his, this time focusing her powers through his mind instead of around it.

As quickly and carefully as she could, she wove her red strands into the jumbled mass, letting them thread through his panicked state. She closed her eyes, forcing her mind to engulf his, gold flashes mixing with her own scarlet. She felt the tidal wave of panic wash over her as she pushed herself deeper. Panic and uncertainty and a distinct warmth that she did not recognize, but decided she did not have time to. Wordlessly, she mentally clasped her mind tight around his, focusing on his hands, envisioning them closing around hers, _willing_ them to.

Wanda opened her eyes, and with only seconds to react, snapped her hands closed around the Vision’s in a vice-like grip. Only then did she notice that his hands were the only part of him that remained visible.

Pushing up from her squatting position, she heaved backwards, pulling a startled Vision in her wake. After several moments, she paused, looking back at her passenger. The Vision stood, shaking slightly, but solid on the ground. She released one of her hands and the Vision opened his mouth to speak, but before he managed to form a sound, she had grabbed the back of his neck with her free hand and was pushing his along ahead of her towards the nearest desk space. Once there, she bent him over above the tiny office waste bin, muttered a small “sorry”, and then mentally forced every nauseating thought and feeling she could create into his already agitated mind.

The effect was instantaneous as the Vision’s cobalt eyes shifted from mild confusion to wide shock and he plunged his head into the wastebasket. She kept her hand on the Vision’s back, occasionally pressing on it to make sure he was still solid as he relieved himself of his single glass of high quality alcohol.

For a moment, Wanda remembered doing the same for Pietro when they were young and still adjusting to the way vodka burned their stomachs and tongues. She remembered gently rubbing his back while he whimpered over a toilet. Repeating the soothing motions, she moved her hand up and down the Vision’s spine, letting her fingers catch in his cape.

“There we go,” she said softly when he had finished.

Shakily, the Vision turned and braced himself against the desk that was paired with the wastebasket. He stood lamely for several long moments, limbs rigid and trembling slightly, but otherwise recovered from his earlier condition. Wanda placed a hand on his shoulder, ready in case he body decided to alter its matter state again.

“Better?” she asked. The Vision glanced down at her.

The panic had gone from his mind and Wanda began to untangle her red tendrils from his thoughts, slowly releasing him to his own solid two feet. He stared at her for a long moment, until the last of her powers had completely slipped from his mind and the red sparks faded around her.

“Miss Maximoff, I hope this does not offend you, but I can say with a degree of certainty that this has been the most unpleasant experience of my entire life.”

There was no malice in his voice, and Wanda allowed herself a sigh of relief as she let her hand drop to her side. She had not noticed her heavy breathing during her exertions. Her sudden burst of athleticism combined with the alcohol in her nearly empty stomach had started to give her a headache. “You scared me to death!” she barked, suddenly, “I thought the next time I was going to see you would be at the center of the Earth!” Wanda mentally felt his response coming for a brief second. His foreign thought processes conjured up explanations about gravity and molecular spacing and Earth’s ever decreasing mass and radius as one nears the core and the overall improbability of her claim, but the explanations passed unsaid.

Looking up at him, she saw to her surprise that the very corners of his mouth began to twitch upward in a smile.

“I suppose this means that I do not, in fact, drink.”

Wanda could not remember a time when she had laughed harder.


	8. Chapter 8

The hangover couldn’t have been worse.

That was the first thing Wanda thought when her eyes peeled open. Thick slats of sunlight punched their way into her room through the drawn blinds. The darkness had receded from her ceiling into the pores of the cream colored walls. Overall, the daylight gave the small sleeping space a welcoming and pleasant aura, and had it not been for her pounding head, Wanda might have actually enjoyed the sight.

She rolled over stiffly to look at the clock. 9AM. There was a team briefing scheduled for 10AM and she wondered if anyone would notice if she skipped a shower.

She stood, arching her back and jamming her arms over her head in an effort to squeeze the exhaustion from her muscles. Walking towards the small chest of drawers that stood opposite her bed, she stared hard at her reflection in the small mirror perched atop it. Dark circles dangled beneath her eyes, but it was nothing a little cover up wouldn’t fix. She placed a hand in her pants pocket and discovered the crumpled cracker wrapper. She tossed it into the waste bin next to the dresser, wiping the crumbs from her hand. Breathing sharply into her palm, Wanda raised her hand to her face, checking for any remnants of the previous night’s alcohol-fueled adventure. She was about to reach for her toothbrush when her eye caught something golden flash in the mirror’s corner.

Wanda’s jaw dropped open as she whirled around and gaped at the unconscious form of the Vision lying face down on the edge of her bed.

For several seconds, Wanda leaned against the dresser, fingers wrapped around the edges, nails digging into the wood. Though her bed was slightly larger than a single, she wondered how his presence had gone unnoticed for so long. His face was buried in her second pillow and his golden cape covered most of his body. From where she stood, she could tell one of his arms was hanging off the side. Were it not for the fact that she had just spent a somewhat drunken night in the same bed with him, Wanda might have actually found his current state quite humorous.

She didn’t know the Vision could sleep.

Wanda quickly rounded the bed to the other side and knelt down on the floor so her head was level with the Vision’s. She placed a finger under his nose, but felt no breath warm it. For a moment she panicked, unsure if the Vision’s body required oxygen to maintain itself. Red sparks and threads erupted from her fingertips and she hurled them around his head. Whereas the night before, she had found vibrant yellows and winding trails of thoughts, the Vision’s mind was muddled and muted. Wanda waded through the mental heaviness, trying to find some catalyst to move everything into calculated life once more.

“Wake up, wake up!” she hissed frantically, unsure what to do.

She rolled the Vision onto his back and vigorously shook his shoulders while simultaneously raking her mind through his, digging deeper than she had ever done with anyone else. Suddenly half remembered sensations poured over her. She tasted the drinks from the night, the smell of open chili powder, and the slight temperature fluctuations of the stove. Wanda saw her younger self opening a bottle and retrieving two glasses. She felt herself phase through the floor, engulfed in concrete darkness and then broke the surface again in an entirely new room.

She felt the panic, cold and sharp, jab at every recess of her mind. It stabbed behind her eyeballs and it took all her will power not to cry aloud at the sudden discomfort. She felt a warm relief overtake her as her own hands suddenly grabbed her wrists, washing away the icy fear in a flood of pink and scarlet.

A circuit closed.

The Vision sat bolt upright, half throwing Wanda across the room with the force. She pushed herself up onto her knees, her mind reeling at its sudden expulsion from his head. Pressing a hand to her forehead, Wanda blinked furiously, eyes becoming watery, as she tried to retract her powers more gently. Glancing upwards, she noticed the Vision was now sitting on the edge of her bed, holding his head with both hands and blinking his eyes equally fast. He looked up, pupils rapidly contracting as their geometric irises continued to adjust themselves. After several moments, they returned to their normal positions and Wanda watched as he released his head and finally took notice of his surroundings.

There was a long pause while he slowly looked around the room before finally settling his gaze on Wanda. She lowered her hand from her head and returned his stare, her own confusion and concern mirrored in his features.

“This is not my room,” he said, his voice quieter than was normal.

Wanda slowly shook her head, never once breaking eye contact.

“No,” she relied, voice catching slightly in her throat, “it’s mine.”

The Vision considered her statement silently. Wanda was not sure, but for a moment she thought she saw the Vision’s crimson skin turn a slight shade paler. However, before she could confirm her observation, the Vision dropped through the floor and vanished completely. Wanda stared at the spot where he had been for several minutes. She leaned against the wall under the windows, too stunned to stand.

_Now_ the hangover couldn’t have been worse.


	9. Chapter 9

Wanda did not speak to the Vision for a full two days. She was not sure if it was because she was avoiding him or he her. They saw each other at the team practice less then two hours after his abrupt departure through the floor of her room, but the rest of the forty eight hour period was spent apart, either in one on one training sessions with the Widow or listening to Rogers give tactical lectures in small groups.

Wanda was grateful for the lengthy reprieve as it gave her time to gather her own jumbled thoughts. Her startling expulsion from the Vision’s mind had left her mental powers reeling and disorganized. While she was still able to move objects with a flick of her wrist, she barred her mind against the foreign thoughts that she normally would be open to reading. Fortunately, none of her teammates noticed her subdued presence. Save for maybe the Widow, but if she did notice, she chose to focus on Wanda’s physical combat skills instead of addressing the temporary weakness.

Wanda did not sleep well. Though her sleeping habits had been sporadic before, she now had an entirely new complication egging at her. The brazen lack of decorum stung her ego and the embarrassment knotted her stomach. Though she could remember most of the events of that night, she could not recall returning to her room. She had not even known the Vision had been in the room with her until the morning. Normally, it was hard for anyone to sneak up on her, as the pulse of their minds betrayed them, a power Captain Rogers often utilized in their stealth training exercises. The fact that she had been in such close proximity to another person and not known it unnerved Wanda.

But then, the Vision was not exactly a person. It had taken her a considerable amount of concentration to find the still active portions of his mind while he was unconscious.

Wanda rolled over, eyes still hanging open. The clock by the bed read 2am. Her stomach, though still slightly knotted, gave a soft gurgle in protest to her decision to skip dinner. Though he did not eat, Wanda had worried that the Vision might choose to join his fellow Avengers for the ‘social aspects’.

She sat up, throwing the covers off her bare feet. As she slid her bedroom door shut behind her, she wondered if anyone had bothered to save the abandoned pot of goulash.

 


	10. Chapter 10

The hallways were as abandoned as they had been two nights ago. Wanda found the kitchen more easily and did not require her powers to locate the light switch. Under the familiar fluorescents, she made her way to the fridge. She had already checked the small room where she had encountered the Vision star gazing the night before and felt sufficiently alone enough to make noise.

The half empty energy drinks had been joined by a new milk gallon as well as several small plastic contains labeled ‘Chili maybe?’ in Barton’s handwriting. Wanda carefully picked one up and peeled the lid from it, smiling slightly at the cold but familiar scent wafted around her. She placed the container on the chrome-topped island, closing the fridge behind her. Making her way to the sink, Wanda opened several drawers until she located one filled with cutlery. She grabbed a small spoon and then pushed the drawer closed with her hip. Turning towards the already opened serving of goulash, spoon in hand, she came face to face with the Vision, watching her from the opposite side of the island counter.

Wanda froze, mentally cursing as she realized this was the second time she had not felt his mind when he was near her. For a long moment, he stared at her, cobalt eyes unblinking. Wanda gazed back, unwilling to break whatever trance they shared.

“You startled me,” she said, placing the spoon next to the opened container.

“I am sorry,” he said, his voice the usual monotone she was accustomed to.

“It is all right. I just did not expect-“

“I am sorry about our last encounter,” he interrupted.

Wanda braced herself against the countertop, uncertain if she was ready for this conversation.

“I have been reviewing my memory files. I have read that alcohol can temporarily inhibit the human mind from creating new memories, but mine does not seem to have any gaps. Upon review, it was foolish of me to try something as toxic as alcohol without first examining the potential consequences it would have on me. The resulting situation was dangerous for both of us, as well as embarrassing, I am sure. I apologize for the outcome. It was unfair of me to put you in that circumstance.”

Wanda relaxed her grip on the countertop.

“Do not blame yourself,” she said, slowly circling around the island until she was in front of him, “I should not have served vodka to a minor.”

The Vision raised his brow line at this statement.

“You _are_ less than a year old,” she clarified, “I did not think it through, either. I am just happy that I managed to help you.”

The Vision gazed at her for a long moment.

“Thank you. For saving me.”

“I am an Avenger now. It is what I do,” she smiled.

She had not expected their confrontation to be so gentle. The aftermath of too much wine with Pietro often never went well and usually ended with them fighting before any real reconciliation tool place. A prick of sadness washed over Wanda’s mind at Pietro’s memory and she suddenly longed for his apologetic face after making her sick with worry.

The Vision noticed her momentary lapse.

“I have upset you again.”

“Hmmm? No. It is not you.”

“Again, I am truly sorry.”

“I will forgive you if you forgive me,” she said frankly.

The Vision inclined his head in agreement.

Wanda smiled and passed by him, returning to her position in front of her slowly warming goulash.

“Let us try this again,” she said, jabbing her spoon into the container.


	11. Chapter 11

By 3am, Wanda and the Vision were seated at one of the two small tables near the counters. Wanda vigorously shook the chili powder over her goulash, cursing herself for forgetting to add it after she had turned off the stove. Yes, she had been distracted by her teammate’s unplanned departure through the floor, but it would have only taken a moment.

The Vision chewed his one mouthful of goulash carefully. She watched his irises swivel around his pupils, their angular patterns shifting with each movement. At length he swallowed, glancing towards her. She raised her eyebrows at him as she shoveled another spoonful into her mouth, awaiting his opinion.

“It is thick,” he said.

“Thick how?”

“The texture is quite clumped and the ingredients are thoroughly combined. But the flavors are almost indistinguishable. I can taste it in my navel cavities.”

Wanda let out a small snort at the specifics of his review.

“It sticks to your ribs,” she said after a loud swallow. “That is what my mother told me when I was younger. It gets quite cold in Sokovia, so you need food that will stick to your ribs and warm you all day.”

The Vision considered her statement as she took another spoonful and raised it towards her mouth.

“Do you remember how we got to my room?” Wanda asked.

The Vision cast his eyes back at her.

“I do not remember and it has been bothering me.”

“After I relieved myself, we walked back up the stairs together, but you complained of a headache, so I saw you back to your room. I must not have been feeling well myself, because several of my systems shut down and were reactivated by you the next morning.”

His answer satisfied Wanda’s curiosity.

“I did not know I could become intoxicated.” The Vision said.

“I did not know you could dream.” Wanda replied, placing her spoon in the now empty serving container.

The Vision turned towards her, brow line furrowed.

“Dream?”

“Yes. It was not like a human dream, but when I entered your mind to wake you, you were dreaming.”

The Vision stared past her for a moment, examining her claim. Wanda had not thought the fact strange, as she had sensed his ability to dream before they had even been properly introduced. However, the Vision seemed perplexed by her explanation.

“Is that bad?” she asked when his silence began to worry her.

“No, it is…odd.”

Wanda watched as the Vision stood and paced the floor around the table.

“I have learned several new and complicated things about myself in a very short amount of time and I am not sure how to address them each properly.” He said at last, stopping opposite her.

“I am sorry you are troubled,” she said, standing to meet his stare.

“Not troubled,” he corrected, “Disorganized.”

“From what I know about myself, we are both unique,” she said, placing her hand on his forearm. The synthetic green armor he projected over it was cool to the touch.

“It is confusing at first. But the answers come in time at their own pace.”

As if to emphasize her point, several small sparks and wisps of scarlet snapped in the air around her hand.

The Vision gazed at her for a long time before nodding.

She kept her hand on his arm for a moment longer before withdrawing and clearing the table of her makeshift meal.

“The goulash was delicious,” he said suddenly.

Wanda returned her gaze to him.

“I do not believe I included that in my review.” The Vision’s lips were turned upwards in a ghost of a smile.

Wanda gave him small grin in return before making her way towards the sink. She paused as she deposited her dirty utensils in the basin before turning around.

“Have you ever tried janija?”


	12. Chapter 12

Wanda did not know what else to call it except a routine. Several nights a week, she would make her way to the kitchen, encountering the Vision at some point on her journey. She usually found him staring out a window, seemingly transfixed by the night sky, but it was not unusual for her to find him reading in a small chair placed awkwardly in a hallway for decoration, or already in the kitchen waiting for her.

Though they often had to substitute plain American ingredients, Wanda found to her surprise that the kitchen was well stocked for their nightly drills. After two weeks, she had successfully filled the refrigerator and nearby cupboards with a variety of tupperware containing their Sokovian leftovers.

Their conversations evolved as much as their palates. Wanda found the Vision to be an extremely good listener. He would sit pensively either next to or across from her, drinking in the stories of her childhood in Sokovia, her complaints about her training exercises, the current political climate since the incident in Sokovia, the bruises she received when her own reflexes were not on par with the Widow’s.

The Vision, in return, remained mostly quiet, seeming to prefer listening than adding to the conversation. Wanda found that a question was required to pry lengthy snippets of dialogue from him.

“Can you feel things through that?” she asked midway through their third week of nightly meetings.

The Vision followed her gaze to his cape, which fell from his shoulders over the back of the chrome-cast chair and pooled on the floor below.

“What do you mean?”

“Can you feel the floor through your cape. It is a part of you, not like normal clothes. I was wondering if you could feel things through it.”

The Vision pulled his cape over his shoulder slightly with his right hand, running his fingers over the finely decorated material.

“I do not think it is the same.” He said after a pause. “I do not feel like you.” He let the fabric drop from his hand and returned his eyes to hers. “I can sense physical applied pressure and fluctuations in temperatures, but the human nervous system is much more complex than mine. I do not experience any physical reactions to these measurements, like pain. I do not believe I _can_ truly ‘feel’.”

Wanda watched as his eyes suddenly became distant. He glanced down at his hand and then back at her.

“At least, I did not think I could.”

“Did not?” Wanda pressed.

“Our first evening several weeks ago, when you pulled me up from the basement floor, what exactly did you do to solidify me?”

Wanda was surprised by the question. Until this point the Vision had seemed to avoid taking about their first nightly encounter.

“I am not sure, truly. I allowed my mind to intertwine with yours, but I do not remember how I controlled your hands. Why do you ask?”

The Vision stared at her for a long moment. Wanda sensed unease brush her mind. She restrained herself from slipping into his head and peeking at whatever secret he was currently pondering.

“I believe I felt that,” he said finally.

Wanda stared at him for a long moment.

“There was a sensation beyond just the physical contact that has perplexed me. I believe it was the result of you abilities.”

Wanda felt a foreign urge bounce against the periphery of her thoughts. The Vision’s expression had not changed but his concentration on her had intensified. Carefully extending herself, she maneuvered her own mind around his, trying to decipher whatever message he was broadcasting.

“You wish for me to recreate the moment?” she asked carefully, trying to guess his desire without completely invading the privacy of his mind.

“If it is not to much trouble. I am intrigued by it.”

Wanda considered the request for a moment.

“Let me see your hand.”

The Vision immediately obliged, extending his arm out towards her, crimson palm facing her. She took it in her own hand, running her fingers over the small veins and plates of vibranium that broke the otherwise smooth skin.

“This may not work.” She warned, leaning against the table.

“I am aware. I appreciate the effort, though.”

Wanda nodded.

“If at all possible, I would prefer it if you did not have to venture too deep within my head. It is a little….unnerving.”

Wanda’s already open mind sensed an omission within his request, but decided against pressing the issue further. She simply nodded as she raised her free hand and released her scarlet wisps towards the Vision’s awaiting mind.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Wanda allowed her mind to venture into the Vision’s. She closed her eyes and blindly felt her way forward, allowing her scarlet tendrils to thread their way into the Vision’s own gold-tinted intellect. She felt a flurry of sensations once more. The chrome table beneath her own hand felt less cold, though she new from the contact that its temperature had not changed. The air around her seemed to fluctuate slightly, moving around her as she moved within it. However, it did not affect her skin. Everything was as it had been, but she was suddenly removed from it, aware but not participating. For a brief moment, Wanda began to retract her mental fingers. The shear magnitude of her sudden disconnection from the area around her was almost too much to handle.        

She opened her eyes. The Vision’s own eyes were locked unwaveringly on hers, the irises ghostly still. She could see the dull red glow that marked her presence deep within his pupils.

The Vision’s stillness frightened her.

“Vizsh?” she asked. Her hand adjusted slightly around his as she leaned in, halting her mental retreat.

The Vision slowly dipped his head downward to observe her hand on his. Wanda tilted her own head following his line of sight. Her hand was firmly placed on his palm, painted nails resting on his wrist. Carefully, she slid her hand around his and gripped it tight. She felt her own hand engulf his, her nervous system faintly extending into the Vision’s body. The physical presence was obvious, her hand was warm, but contained instances of temperature variation depending on the contact points.

Wanda marveled at the overall experience. She wondered briefly if everything the Vision experienced was as calculated and observant as this. Moving her hand again, she dragged her fingers until they nested in his crimson palm like hatchlings. She pressed down harder, allowing her nails to dig into the skin slightly.          The contact points were fewer and more centered.

The pressure average had increased.

This was not working.

Wanda closed her eyes and concentrated. She focused on the way her fists would ache after moving weights with Captain Rogers, the half crescents left on her own palms as she clenched her nails into the soft skin at the exertion. She remembered the sharp pricking sensation as they steadily dug deeper, turning the skin around the indents redder with each second, intensifying her own discomfort.

Wanda jammed her nails down into the Vision’s palm. For a moment, there was no response, but the reprieve was broken when the Vision ripped his hand from her. Wanda opened her eyes in time to watch him quietly hiss a single word:

_“Ouch!”_

Wanda had not realized she had been breathing so heavily. The Vision stared in wonder at his own palm, tracing the fine indents her nails had left. Gently shifting her powers, Wanda searched through his mind for the lingering ache, but found none. The pain had been only momentary and now had vanished completely. Within a few seconds, the physical evidence of their experiment had faded as well.

For a moment, Wanda thought she sensed a heart hammering away in the Vision’s chest, but the realized that it was her own, beating within both their minds. The Vision finally met her gaze, mouth slightly agape.

“That was…” he breathed, without exhaling.

“Odd?” she finished.

“Yes….very and more so.”

“Are you all right?”

“I am…interested,” he managed, placing his hand back on the table.

“Interested in what?”

“In continuing.”

Wanda was still panting, surprised at the amount of concentration it had taken to achieve such a small result.

“I am not sure I am up for that.”

The Vision nodded, “I understand.”

There was a long silence before she spoke again.

“Why are you interested in feeling pain?”

“I did not specifically ask you to hurt me,”           

“But you knew it was what I was trying. You were in my head as much I was in yours. You didn’t stop me.”

“I want to feel, Miss Maximoff. I will take what I can get.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Innocent earnestness quivered around her scarlet threads.

“It is not a very pleasant sensation.”         

“From what I have learned, being human is not either.”

She had found her answer.

“You wish to be more human?”

“If possible, yes.”

“You do not consider yourself human?”   

“Do you?”

Wanda narrowed her eyes slightly. His mind was slowly closing itself off to her, attempting to unravel itself from her web.

“What else would I consider you?”

“An android,” though his cool monotone did not falter, the word fell from his lips as though it were made of lead.

“Androids cannot get drunk. Nor do they chart the night sky in their free time or give opinions on cooking.”

“But they also cannot feel.”

“So this is some sort of test to see how robot you are?”

“It is a test to see how human I am.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Wanda released her grip on his mind and allowed him to slowly retreat within his own head. She had not pinned the Vision as the self-conscious type. From the sensations that grazed her periphery, his intentions were sincere. However, there was still some omission underlying them. Wanda gently probed through the remaining strands of the Vision’s consciousness, trying to uncover his hidden truth, but he suddenly stood and circled the table to where she sat, staring down at her, eyes glowing slightly as the overhead lights cast deep shadows under his brow line.

“I understand if what I am asking is too much.”

Wanda slowly stood, never once breaking eye contact.

“I will help you. With one condition.”

The Vision stepped back slightly to allow her room to move. She rose to her full height, cocking her head to one side.

“If you achieve whatever goal it is you have, you tell my what you are trying so hard to hide form me.”

Wanda was not sure if it was the lighting or what she had said, but she could have sworn the Vision’s overall expression became grave without truly changing. He was silent for a long moment before nodding his head.


	14. Chapter 14

Wanda supposed it was luck that allowed her to consistently meet with the Vision in the middle of the night. Her sleeping habits had already been unhealthy prior to their contract, so nobody noticed the purple under her eyes or her generally tired demeanor. Neither could be considered a change for her. The Widow did occasionally speak to her about the importance of a good nights sleep, and recommended several meditation techniques to soothe what she called ‘the unquiet mind’. Wanda promised to use them, if only to keep the Widow’s ever-watching eyes occupied for the time being.

They started the next night. Vision was already waiting for her in the kitchen when she arrived. He was leaning against the island counter, his arms folded, with his elbows supporting most of his weight. At her entrance, he immediately rose to his full height, cape jumping slightly at his sudden movement.

“Good evening,” she laughed surprised by his demeanor.

“To you as well.”       

“How would you like to go about this?”

“I have been reading-“

“Shocking,” she teased, walking until she stood next to him, arms folded.

“The human body’s nervous system attributes certain physical sensations into its own physical responses. Pain is followed by a response to cease it. I did not know what this meant until I felt the urge to retract my hand. But there are many other sensations besides this.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow. She had not been expecting a lecture.

“There are physical responses associated with heat, cold, dampness, softness and so on. I think I shall need to try most of these.”

“So we experiment with each sensation?”

“Yes. I am going to try to build a database from which I can draw responses for future reference.”

“This only works when I meld my mind with yours.”

“Yes, but I am curious to see if I can change that.”

Wanda considered his statement for a moment and the magnitude of their undertaking.

“We are building a synthetic nervous system.”

“In short, yes.”

“I do not see how this will work if you require my abilities to actually _feel_ the sensations.”

“The database serves only as the first stepping stone. I need to know if there are any sensations I am _incapable_ of experiencing.”       

His argument was no longer making sense. Wanda tried to reach out with her mind. She brushed the edges of his thoughts as gently as she could without alerting him to her presence. She felt eagerness, anticipation and a conscious lack of something. The omission plagued her. She could not place the emotion that surrounded it.

“You are uncertain of my plan?”    

Wanda withdrew her mind.

“No, I am confused by it.”

“Eventually, I will be consulting Doctor Cho on the possibilities of integrating a physical synthetic nervous system into my own body, but for the moment, I need to know that my mind is capable of handling one.”

Wanda decided that, for the moment, it was enough information.        

“How do you want to start?”

The Vision moved past her towards the fridge. Wanda watched as he opened the door and reached upwards into the freezer, placing both hands firmly on either side of the ice bin.


	15. Chapter 15

Wanda’s hands were pressed firmly over her mouth in an effort to stifle her laughter. She watched the Vision, who stood several feet away from her, his right hand shoved firmly under his armpit, teeth gritted and foot furiously stamping the ground. It had been easier for her to envelope his mind than the previous night. Once he had passed the preliminary test, retracting his hand as Wanda had dug her nails into the palm, he had plunged his hand into the pile of pale, frosty ice on the counter. The effect had been instantaneous. Wanda bit her lips, snorting with glee through her nose, as the Vision finally removed his hand from his underarm, shaking it slightly.

“Satisfied?” she squeaked.

“V-very!” he beamed. Wanda sensed an eruption of golden happiness.

Within an instant it had faded into a curious simmer. The Vision’s eyes were locked on something behind her.

She turned and followed his gaze towards the stovetop.


	16. Chapter 16

“Odd,” was all the Vision had to say as Wanda held a clump of ice on his palm several minutes later.

Whatever laugher she had in the moments before had dissipated the second the Vision had ignited the front left burner and immediately placed his fingers into the flames. She had felt his pain milliseconds after he did, seizing his arm and dragging him away, gritting her teeth as the second-hand sensation made the edges of her mind wince.

“Stupid,” she chided.

“It was…strangely pleasant.”

Wanda peeled the ice away and examined his hand. There were no distinguishable burn marks. She had not expected to find any, but she tenderly rubbed the area nonetheless. The Vision’s mind responded to her touch, the whirring gold mass pulsing slightly.

“I think that may be enough for tonight,” Wanda said, chucking the melting ice clumps into the sink basin.

“Indeed,” he said. Wanda retracted her scarlet grip from his mind, allowing him to slip between her mental fingers. She felt a slight pang of sadness as the last of her magic removed itself from the Vision’s mind and dissipated in red sparks around them.

“I can expect to see you again tomorrow night?” he asked carefully.

Wanda allowed her mind one last brush, orbiting around his consciousness as stealthily as she could. It was like trying to see through a vault door, though. Her powers could grant her easy access to every last one of his thoughts, but she knew he would recognize her presence in an instant. Wanda had hoped that he would tell her what was on his mind rather than violate his privacy. She still sensed the knot of opaque thoughts. The purposeful concealment irritated her. In spite of this, the surface of the Vision’s mind remained relatively open to her, and as she could find no other obvious, concrete reasons to halt their progress, she simply nodded.

In an odd change of pace, he escorted her back to her room and bid her goodnight. As she slid her door open, Wanda felt a momentary edge of anticipation flicker on the outskirts of the Vision’s thoughts. She turned and stared at him. He met her gaze, but only offered an honest smile. The moment had passed, and as she slid the door closed behind her, Wanda wondered if she had only imagined it.

She pressed her ear against the inside of her door. She felt his mind remain motionless on the other side and then heard soft padding as he made his way down the hall to wherever he planned to spend the rest of the night. Wanda momentarily remembered his unconscious form on the edge of her bed. Whatever plan he was including her in, their first encounter was the key, however she was at a loss over why feelings and sensations were suddenly so important to a being who had spent the past six months seemingly content with how he experienced the world. As she pulled the covers under her chin, Wanda considered following the Vision and spying on his mind while he slept, if he did sleep now.

Just before she closed her eyes, she wondered briefly if the Vision ever dreamed of electric sheep.


	17. Chapter 17

The ritual continued for a week. They met in the kitchen each night, exchanging their usual meal for a session in senses. Wanda found that the Vision was now always waiting for her, either seated at one of the tables or leaning against the counters. He seemed to have abandoned his customary practice of reading or stargazing before her arrival. Each night, as she entered the kitchen, his mind almost overwhelmed her as the golden lights that composed his thoughts intensified ten fold at her arrival.

Pain was only the beginning. The Vision always had a pile of sample objects prepared, ranging from pillows or pieces of cloth to maple syrup. Once, he had a jar of hair gel. He offered no direct answer when she asked him about where he had found it, but she received one the next morning when Barton arrived to practice, grouchy and hair slightly less spiked than normal.

Wanda was as fascinated by the Vision’s experience as he was by the sensation of touch. It was like watching a toddler explore the world, only with the body and intellectual vocabulary of an adult. With each new item he could feel, the Vision’s face practically lit up, eyes glowing slightly as his electrical brain stashed the memory in its database.

“Are you satisfied yet?” Wanda asked through a lopsided grin as the Vision held his hand under the running tap, flexing and wriggling his fingers as the water flowed through the microscopic grooves of his synthetic skin.

“I wish I was,” he said slowly, never once looking away from the steady flow of water.

“Have you talked to Doctor Cho yet?”

For a brief instant, Wanda felt a shift in the Vision’s mind. A smaller knot suddenly joined the elusive, tangled mass that rested in the core of his thoughts. Wanda immediately focused all her mental attention on it, feeling brave enough to slide her tendrils around it. In their current mentally entwined state, she doubted that he would notice her shift in concentration. Then as quickly as it came, the knot vanished. In the same instance, the Vision gave his response:

“Not yet, but now that my database is more complete I believe I will bring her in on our project.”

Wanda sensed the knot reappear. Slowly, the Vision’s mind contracted away from her, yellow synapses pulling the two knots more inward in an effort to keep them from her.

Wanda suddenly realized what was happening. Now that there was more than one, she recognized the confusing and dense jumble of thoughts. The larger tangle had managed to elude her for so long because she did not have another instance within the Vision’s own mind with which to compare it. In any other human brain, she would have seen it for what it was and the words stung her as she said them:

“You’re lying.”

The smaller tangle dissipated from the Vision’s mind upon identification. Wanda flicked her wrist and immediately the sink snapped shut. The Vision slowly turned his head towards her. His expression was unreadable, but Wanda felt the anxiety in his mind. Though his own reactions were different than those of a human, with the confusing knot finally named, Wanda suddenly started piecing the rest together.

“What else are you lying about?”

The Vision stared at her, the cobalt blue irises twitching furiously around his pupils. Wanda watched as he drew his hands up towards his chest, clenching and unclenching them in an unnecessary pattern.

“I…I do not…”

Wanda felt a new knot beginning to form.

“Either you tell me,” she said, nostrils flaring slightly, “or I go in and find out.”

The Vision visibly stiffened. Wanda felt his mind go wild, pushing the central knotted mass deep into its recesses.

“Miss Maximoff, I beg you to-“

Wanda cut him off mid sentence. With out any hesitation, she whipped her hands up and placed them on either side of his head. Wanda felt the cool vibranium plates against her palms as the Vision jerked backwards, but the world suddenly faded as she mentally stabbed her way into the core of his consciousness.


	18. Chapter 18

The room around Wanda faded for an instant before the basement facility shimmered into view. Wanda watched as the office desks appeared, outlined by a strange muted light. She was aware than she was leaning back against some surface. There was a waste bin by her feet. Wanda’s stomach suddenly lurched and she wanted to grab it and cover her mouth at the same time, taken aback by the sudden nausea.

“Better?”

 Wanda’s own voice sounded foreign to her. She lifted her head to see an exact replica of herself, its hand outstretched and resting on her back. Her doppelganger’s face was lined with concern, hair slightly disheveled. Wanda suddenly wondered why her double seemed to be radiating light, but as she opened her mouth to speak, the only words than came out were:

“Miss Maximoff, do not take this the wrong way, but I can say with a degree of certainty that this has been the most unpleasant experience of my entire life,”

Wanda could not remember a time in her life when she had been a _participant_ in anyone else’s memory. Usually when she entered a mind, it was played out before her at a distance, as though she were a spectator as some strange sporting event. Her unexpected involvement startled her. She was not sure if it was a result of the Vision’s unusual mind or some alteration in her own abilities. The room around her took a more solid shape and the lighting became more realistic as she finally locked herself within the memory.

“You scared me to death!” her imagined double barked. “I thought the next time I was going to see you would be at the center of the Earth!”

Wanda felt the Vision’s response coming. She felt the cool, measured monotone explanation about his abilities and what had just occurred. She felt the practical response as it formed at the back of his throat and tried to slip between his lips. However, it was drowned out by a new sensation, one she had not felt the first time this scene had played out. A warm feeling enveloped her. It felt ancient, as though she should have expected its presence. The Vision’s suddenly decided that instead of responding to her indirect question, he wanted to see her laugh.

“I would suppose this means that I do not, in fact, drink,”

Wanda felt his smile of satisfaction as the Vision got his wish.


	19. Chapter 19

The memory extended long past what Wanda could remember of the evening. She watched as she and the Vision made their way up the numerous flights of stairs back towards the kitchen. The journey started with the Vision leaning on her double. There was a strange heaviness in his legs at each step. By the time they reached the second floor, her doppelganger had started to feel the full effects of its own alcohol consumption. It paused and placed a hand on its forehead.

“Miss Maximoff, are you feeling ill?”

“I think my hangover is starting early.”

Wanda felt the Vision’s mind become lined with concern. He reached a hand out and placed it on her double’s shoulder.

“Would you like to return to your quarters?”

“Yes…I think that is a good idea.”

Wanda felt the Vision place his hands protectively around her younger form, leading her gently down the winding halls towards the sleeping quarters. Silently, they reached her door and Wanda watched as her double opened it with a soft click.

“Thank you, Vizsh,” it said, moving from his embrace to lean slightly against the doorframe.

“You are quite welcome, Wanda.”

Wanda felt the immediate tension at the Vision’s verbal slip. He had not meant to address her by her first name and the social slight caused his mind to stir into a mild panic. She watched as her doppelganger raised an eyebrow.

“I did not think you liked first names.”

“A slip of the tongue, Miss Maximoff. My apologies.”

The panic did not settle, though the Vision’s voice hid it well.

“Do not apologize. You may call me Wanda if you wish,” the double stumbled slightly, the alcohol finally taking its full effect.

No wonder she couldn’t remember that evening.

The Vision reached out and grabbed her before she fell.

“Thank you for seeing me back to my room, Vizsh,” it said.

Wanda watched as the Vision turned his head towards her double’s face. Without warning, her remembered form leaned in and pressed its lips against the Vision’s cheek.

Wanda jumped as the Vision’s mind suddenly halted. Heat exploded around her and she found that every thought was suddenly intensely focused on the unexpected contact. The warmth settled in her belly and slowly spread to every limb, engulfing her in a confortable glow.  

It was the most incredible thing Wanda had ever experienced.

Wanda watched as her double pulled away, smiled sweetly, then turned into her room. The Vision stood in the hall for a long moment. She felt his mind hum around her, moving in an uncalculated rhythm of excitement. Slowly, he raised a hand and pressed it against the spot where her ghost’s lips had been. Wanda was suddenly aware that she knew the exact psi measurement for the incident. The Vision’s mind turned over the information, carefully gathering into an intensely detailed memory. The exact pressure reading, the precise surface area affected, the temperature fluctuations as she had leaned in, made contact and then retreated. His mind broke down every aspect of the exchange. Suddenly, Wanda felt an unfamiliar sensation wash over the careful calculations. It buried the analysis in a dull sense of loss. Wanda turned her attention on it, running her magic through it, trying desperately to read it. The feeling was unidentifiable.

The Vision suddenly followed her double into the room, watching her carefully as she leaned on various objects to support herself. Wanda silently made a note to never drink three tumblers of vodka in one sitting again. She watched as her double flopped onto her bed, burying its face into her pillow in an effort to stifle what would eventually become a raging headache. The Vision sat on the edge of the bed, mind thoroughly muddled. Wanda could feel the alcohol slowly taking its toll on his mind as the electrical impulses became more sporadic.

“Miss Maximoff, do you need anything?”

She felt his limbs grow weaker. The last thing that ran through the Vision’s mind was momentary panic at his unexpected shut down before the memory finally ended.

The tangle burst.


	20. Chapter 20

The force of her exit caused Wanda to fly back into the island counter.

She gripped her side as her spine collided with the unforgiving metal. She was in the kitchen once again. Gritting her teeth, she turned back to her subject. The last of the red sparks had faded around his head. He stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide and fixed upon her. She reached out with her mind, feeling her way towards him, but at her attempted touch, the Vision suddenly lurched back from her.

“Vizsh,-“

He did not give her a chance to finish. As she reached out her hand towards him, he spun around and phased through the stovetop and wall, leaving Wanda alone and more confused than ever.


	21. Chapter 21

She did not see the Vision for four days. Each night, Wanda made her way to the kitchen, stubbornly practicing their routine. Each night she was greeted only by the cold metal kitchen appliances and fluorescent lights. She did not see him at any of the team practices either. Captain Rogers informed them that he was busy with Dr. Cho and would be absent for several days. Wanda did not need her powers to know that the Vision had lied.

She was sitting in a chair in the kitchen on the fifth night. The clock in her room had read 2:17am as she slid the door shut behind her. She had checked both common rooms on the second floor as well as every room with windows large enough to accommodate an aspiring astronomer. Though the familiar scarlet hue did not surround her hands, Wanda let her powers drift through the air around her, inviting his mind to her.  

By 3am, though, she was still sitting alone in the kitchen, unsuccessful. Wanda drummed her fingers against the chrome tabletop, the sound echoing loudly in the lonely space. The Vision had left her with much to think about.

He had not lied to her so much as not told her the entire truth. Yes, he had seen her back to her room, and yes, the alcohol, though expunged from his body, had caused his system to enter a state similar to sleep. However, he had kept the kiss from her. Wanda squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember her side of that evening. Though she strained, her experience ended after the Vision’s first encounter with the act of vomiting.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. They ached with the strain of her thoughts and physical exhaustion. Their game of hide and seek weighed on her mind like a mountain pressing down on her nerves. If they did not speak, she felt as though she was going to be crushed under its weight.

Wanda stood and began pacing the floor, mulling over the Vision’s memory. The feeling of her face against his, the warmth that had blocked out all his other capacities. The overwhelming sense of loss he had felt. His overall reaction left her more confused than his concealment of the encounter. Wanda paused and placed a hand on her own cheek.

He had enjoyed it.

She pulled her hand away and examined it.

And that confused him.

She remembered the broken and horrified look he had given her the last time she saw him.

And upset him.

The android was more of an enigma that she had ever dreamed.

Wanda ran her hands through her hair, racking her brain to piece the puzzle together. She had kissed him, albeit drunkenly. He had enjoyed it. They had accidentally slept in the same bed together. All these would have sufficed to make the naturally polite Vision uncomfortable. It did not explain his concealment of the matter from her, though. The Vision’s mind was usually as open as it could be, far more so than any of her other teammates. She had not even be able to recognize a lie within his mind it was such a singularity.

But the rest didn’t make any more sense, either. Why all his talk about nervous systems and tangible sensations? Wanda knew he never intended on consulting Dr. Cho, so a database of information was unnecessary. In fact their entire nightly ritual was unnecessary as he could only ever experience physical touch with her in his mind. Anything he wanted to actually feel would require her participation as well.

The realization struck Wanda like an ice soaked rag.

“He wanted to _feel_ me kiss him!” she hissed aloud.

For a long moment, Wanda stood motionless. The warm joy, the sense of loss, the prick of eagerness the night he had walked her back to her room. They were all connected. The sheer momentum of the idea shook her to her core. The Vision wanted to feel her kiss him. Yes, the circumstances that initiated it were not ideal, and the feeling confused him, but he had staged this entire operation to experience tangibility with her in hopes of getting a second chance.

Wanda turned and faced the spot where she they had last stood. Of course he had not wanted her to venture into his mind. He was still trying to figure it out himself.

Wanda felt a sudden panic rise within her. The Vision wanted to feel her kiss him. The thought was odd. She never knew he considered her in such a way. She doubted anyone knew the Vision considered _anything_ in such a way. Wanda resumed her original seated position. Her own emotions became as jumbled as the Vision’s lie, tying themselves in knots behind her eyes.

She needed to talk to him.

Now.


	22. Chapter 22

The trap had been surprisingly easy to set.

Wanda stood, her back pressed firmly against the wall by the door. The Vision’s assigned quarters were sparsely decorated. The only furnishings were a bed, the sheets still crisp for lack of use, and a small dresser by the windows. A pile of books stood neatly at one end, the only indication that someone ever entered the room.

Through the large, floor to ceiling window, Wanda had an excellent view of the setting sun. The rest of the team, as well as certain staff members would be in the large mess hall at the end of the facility eating dinner. Wanda knew that she was expected there, which is why it was the perfect time to be elsewhere. She learned from Wilson that the Vision tended to access the first floor library either during or immediately after dinner. She knew from experience the library required card access. The Vision had no discernable pockets on his person, and her suspicion was confirmed after she had picked the lock on his door and immediately spotted his card perched atop the small book pile.

 She carefully ran her finger along the card’s edge as she waited, watching the sun dye the horizon deep pinks and oranges.

Not long after she had chosen her hiding spot, the Vision entered, phasing through the door like a phantom, eyes fixed straight ahead. Wanda stiffened as the golden cape arched lazily behind him. He walked towards the small dresser, reaching for the book pile. For a long moment, he stood motionlessly, his form obscuring Wanda’s view of the dresser. Wanda felt his confusion.

“Looking for this?” she asked, raising the card next to her face.

The Vision visibly stiffened. Wanda watched as every synthetic fiber contracted. The surface area of his mind bristled with panic as he turned, eyes wide, brow line dangerously close to dislodging the yellow stone from his forehead.

They stood facing each other for several seconds. Wanda extended her arm towards him, card pinched between her thumb and index finger.

The Vision did not move to take it.             

“Please don’t run away this time,” Wanda said softly, tossing the card onto his pristine bed.

“I am sorry.”

“I know that this is all new and confusing, but avoiding me does…”

“I am sorry I allowed you to kiss me,” he interrupted, “You were intoxicated, but it was a terrible breach of decorum on my part. I am sorry I kept that information from you. I merely did not wish for you to be embarrassed by it. I understand that you were not yourself and that your actions were not reflexive of your true feelings, and…”

“Why did you not tell me about how you felt?”

The Vision turned his eyes away, avoiding her gaze.

“It…it is not appropriate.”

“Appropriate?” Wanda rolled the word in her mouth, trying to taste the meaning behind it.

“Miss Maximoff….I am not exactly…” the explanation hung unsaid in the air.

“Human,” she finished.        

His eyes slowly rose to meet hers again. He pursed his lips and gave a curt nod.

“So all our nightly experiments…you were trying to prove it otherwise?”

“Personal questions _are_ uncomfortable,” he replied, his observant mind momentarily halting her progress.

“You wanted to feel me kiss you. I know,” Wanda said before she could stop herself.

The Vision visibly contracted his head towards his body. Wanda was certain that if his skin were not already wine red he might have blushed.

“I did not read your mind...I pieced together what I had.”

“It does not make this situation any less inappropriate.”

“I do not see how any of this in inappropriate. Your physical nature does not impact your mental one.”

“I cannot consider each a separate entity, Miss Maximoff. My brain is as inorganic as the rest of me. It is hard to tell whether…”

Wanda did not have to read his mind to understand what he meant.

“You are genuine.”

“Yes.”

There was a long pause before he continued.

“I do not know where my thoughts or emotions stem from, and since our encounter several weeks ago, I have wondered how much of my experience is second hand.”

He stopped and stared down at his hands.

“Vizsh,” Wanda took a step closer, “Nobody exists second hand.”

“Then what else would you call me?”

“I call you a human soul in a substitute body.”

The Vision tipped his head slightly at her remark.

“You think I posses a soul?”

“I know you do. I have seen it,” she snapped her fingers and several red sparks ignited around them.

“It is still confusing.”

“Many things are.”

“I still do not think that I should…”

It was Wanda’s turn to interrupt. She tossed her hand into the air, showering his mind with her scarlet wisps. As quickly as she could, she reestablished the mental connection, nestling her mind in his, letting her magic spread to the tips of his fingers.

The Vision was taken aback by their sudden entwinement. He took a small step backwards, blinking furiously. Wanda recognized her red glow behind his pupils.

“If I try to kiss your cheek, will you let me?”

It was the first time Wanda had ever gotten a physical reaction of some kind from him. Wanda doubted his body contained any actual bolts, but it was as though someone had removed the ones that attached his jawbone. His mouth dropped open, only to snap back instantly.

“I…”

Wanda waited for a response, but felt none form. He could not think of anything to say. Carefully, she closed the distance between them. Gently cupping one side of his face with her hand, she pushed herself up on her toes and pressed her lips against his cheek.

The Vision’s mind burst into activity. There was no analysis or calculations. Wanda felt her own caress against his face, the softness of her mouth, the slight dampness from her lip balm, the warmth of her skin. She felt the golden hues become thick with unfelt emotions, dripping onto every other thought. The Vision was drunk on her. His arms engulfed her before he even thought about moving them.

She broke the trance, pulling her head away from his. Her hand dropped from his cheek to his shoulder. It was then that she noticed that his eyes were closed. Slowly, the crimson lids drew themselves upwards. His cobalt eyes glowed in the gradually increasing darkness. The red mark of her presence still flickered faintly behind his pupils.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Wanda leaned against him slightly. She felt his mind settle into a golden, bubbling stupor. After several seconds, the Vision finally regained his ability to speak.

“Miss Maximoff, I can say with a degree of certainty that this has been the most enjoyable experience of my entire life.”

Wanda gave him a lopsided smile, which he returned. A new feeling prickled at the back of Wanda’s mind. It crept along her arch of her thoughts and settled at the forefront, pushing the rest aside. Before she could even try to hide it, the feeling had crossed the mental bridge and burrowed into the Vision’s mind as well. He furrowed his brow at the foreign emotion.

Wanda slipped her other arm upwards, wrapping his neck in her grip. Feeling bold, she pushed the thought towards him, peeling back the more complicated emotions in an effort to make him understand. His eyes widened at her proximity.

The Vision suddenly grasped her idea, and encased it within his own stream of unsorted emotions. He tightened his grip on her as she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

Though her eyes were closed, his golden aura seemed to blaze behind them, mixing with her scarlet tendrils in a vibrant torrent of happiness. She could feel her lips on his as well as his on hers. She felt the comfortable softness, the heat, the slick dampness as well as the synthetic skin. She felt his hands press against her back, the stiff fabric of her jacket concealing a dull heat beneath it. The Vision’s own desire and yearning mixed with hers, making the feelings more intense and obvious. Wanda swam through the ocean of sensations and feelings, letting the Vision wander deep into the recess of her mind. She in turn explored his, extending her reach to his core, letting herself get lost in his thoughts. By the time either of them was ready to pull away, Wanda could not tell which mind was which.

Wanda opened her mouth slightly, releasing the Vision’s lip. She leaned her head back, gazing up slightly at his eyes. The sun had set beyond the window, and deep shadows dangled from his brow line, obscuring the sockets. However, Wanda could still make out the deep blue glow of his irises as the slowly turned around his pupils.

“Wanda…” he breathed without exhaling.

She sensed his mind stir. His golden presence wrapped its way around her head, trying to envelope her. She felt his arms tighten around her and the uncertainty of the previous few minutes dissipate. A deep longing bubbled to the surface. Wanda twisted her own desire into it, effectively tying them together.

“I would like to retract my earlier statement and categorize _this_ as this most enjoyable experience of my entire life,” he said after a brief moment of contemplation.

Wanda laughed quietly before tapping the side of her head and whispering, “I know.”

His only response was to kiss her again.


End file.
